Seems Russell’s not the only one having a rummage

Hamilton Spectator

During the wee hours of Sunday morning, I bundled myself in my ankle-length down coat, pushed a pair of sunglasses over my dark-rimmed eyes, and boarded a GO bus to Toronto.

OK, maybe it was 9 a.m. Whatever. Having worked late the night before, it felt like the wee hours to me. But Natalie only ever comes to town every couple of years and she had a brief two-hour window of free time around her family obligations on Sunday morning in Toronto, so I sucked it up. And anyway, there’s something nice about getting on a bus or a train on a weekend morning, resting your head against the cool window, watching the softly-lit world zoom by. Normally, I’m a big fan of this.

But on this particular morning, I boarded the bus, chose my seat carefully — behind the older lady in the prim hat and coat — and, with the down-filled hood of my own coat acting as a pillow, found I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

Must. Stay. Awake. I mean, even if I were to fall dead asleep and some unscrupulous fellow passenger was to rummage through my purse, what would they get? A toonie and a couple of maxed-out credit cards? Good luck to them. But still, it’s the principle of the thing. I don’t want anyone rummaging through my anything.

So I forced my eyes open just as the bus crossed the Desjardins Canal, one of my favourite sights coming and going from Hamilton. I turned my attention to muted brown trees flecked with bits of orange light, to slick black water edged in thick white ice, to lunatic joggers braving the early morning chill, and, as my eyes unfocused, the reflection of an older lady in a prim hat and coat, digging for gold.

I’ve learned recently that the Brits call this “having a rummage.” I know this because recent pictures of Russell Brand engaged in a mild nose pick appeared in the UK’s Daily Mail with the caption, “Having a rummage: Russell Brand was spotted picking his nose as he waited at a traffic light on Friday.”

Now, let’s be fair about this. From the photos it appears Brand was merely scratching — or picking, if you will — the edge of his nostril. Considering Brand is known for behaving much worse than scratching the inside his nostril while in what should have been the privacy of his own car, I’m actually a bit surprised these pictures were even made to be any kind of a thing. But then again, it’s the Daily Mail, so, you know ...

But prim and proper coat and hat lady was not engaged in a mild pick. This was not even a rummage. Half her fist was up her nostril. And when she finally found what she was looking for, she switched nostrils and did the same on the other side. And when she was done on that side, she went back to the first nostril. And so on and so forth. No, this was not a rummage at all — it was a full-scale spring housecleaning and purge. And it continued until we reached Mississauga. The Dixie Outlet Mall, to be exact.

It’s a funny thing, the GO bus. I’m always wary of what I might be sitting in, who might have been there before me, whether or not they’ve been in contact with bedbugs in the last few weeks, that sort of thing. And as quickly as the thoughts enter my brain, I try to shut them down, scolding myself for being such a paranoid freak.

But, as they say, where there’s smoke there’s fire. Not exactly, but you know what I mean. I’m not always nuts, OK? And in this case, I exited the bus at Union Station as swiftly as possible, without touching a single thing. I kept my hands to myself on the way home, too.